Just Breathe
by Subliminally Profound
Summary: House/Wilson. The paths of life are never certain, however, through them all, there is always choice. Reviews and comments welcome.
1. When Things Changed

DISCLAIMER: I do not own House MD or any of its writing credits.

Set before House's original team dissolved…

_Just Breathe_

**When Things Changed**

The fall air was crisp as the gentle breeze blew around James Wilson as he stood outside his office on his balcony. He was standing alone that Friday evening staring, thinking, and being. His eyes suddenly fixed on movement belonging to his friend through the glass of House's office windows.

House was moving quickly, hands writing with definitive purpose across his sacred white board as Cameron, Chase, and Foreman clamored to keep pace with his rhetoric. "Well, duh." House said as the possibility of the unknown ailment was ruled out as being lupus.

"We aren't getting anywhere on this one, kids. Look, since it is the weekend and the patient is stable for now, and I'm feeling generous, you can go home and we'll all come back for round two on Monday." House said with a sigh, dropping the marker onto the counter as he headed to his desk.

"Are you serious?" Foreman called at his back.

"Yeah, I mean we could keep going. The man's life isn't going to get any better until we can stop whatever is causing his blindness and his bleedings." Cameron said with genuine concern.

Chase looked at both of them as if they were crazy, "I think House is right. We should go now, come back refreshed and ready in a couple of days."

Without turning, House said "Go. It's done. I'm done. Enjoy your weekend."

Five minutes later, House was seated alone at his desk, doing little more than aimlessly moving papers about until a knock sounded at his glass door. He looked up to see his only friend smiling gently at him. "Are you actually doing paperwork, or am I so tired my eyes are playing tricks on me?"

Wilson sat down across from him as House rolled his eyes and started tossing his ball lightly in the air. "Whatever. I'm just thinking about this case."

"No breakthroughs and yet your team is gone early for the weekend? That's definitely a first. What's up?" Wilson inquired.

"Nothing. We just aren't hitting it today, so I let them go free. What are you doing here anyway? Don't you have any lives to save in cancer-land?" House bounced back.

"I saw you alone while I was outside taking a break. Thought I'd drop in on you to keep you company, and also to ask you what you are doing tonight." Wilson replied, brushing House's abrupt sarcasm aside.

"I'm not doing anything special. Why, do you have something in mind?" House asked, venom gone from his voice.

"Not really, I was just asking." Wilson said, watching the up and down movements of House's ball.

"How about our usual dinner and tv combo?" House asked.

Wilson thought about that for a minute before suggesting "What if instead of Chinese takeout and reruns, which I'm not downing, we went to a nice restaurant for a change. My treat."

House frowned and said "I don't know if I have the energy for something like that Wilson, let's just go home."

Wilson smiled to himself at House's use of "home" instead of "my place" as it seemed like the word included him as sharing it. However, he kept on the counter argument with "Come on, House it's Friday night. Let's go have some fun."

Defeated, House sighed heavily and said "Fine. But after that it's couch time."

Wilson laughed, "Ok, deal. Let me get my coat, I'll meet you down in the lobby."

While waiting for Wilson, House was thinking to himself as he watched patients and staff walk by, about Stacy, his life before the infarction, his life now, and then his thoughts turned inevitably to his only friend, James Wilson. House smiled slightly as he thought of his one true companion on this Earth, and then wondered briefly what his life will be like when he is no longer there. These thoughts always secretly saddened him, but before he dug too deeply into that dreaded scenario, the man in question walked up to him, eager to go eat.

As the two headed to their cars, Wilson asked "Have you thought of where you'd like to go?"

"No, I thought you were running the show tonight." Replied House, with only a little edge.

"Ok then. How about that new Italian place that just opened up on 38th? I've heard it's really something." Wilson suggested, noting House's irritation.

"Fine by me. I'll meet you there." House said, turning to leave Wilson to get in his car.

"Wait. You can ride with me if you want." Wilson knew that with House's leg, driving wasn't the most comforting activity. And besides, he looked forward to not having to drive in silence.

"I don't need your help, Wilson." House snapped, as House knew very well by now what Wilson was thinking.

"I just want to talk with you. That's all I meant by it." Wilson said, looking into Houses eyes.

House calmed down a little and apologized. He walked to Wilson's car and got into the passenger side.

While drivin to the restaurant, they talked a little about the goings on of the hospital, Cuddy's outfit that day, etc. After arriving and being seated, the conversation took a more serious turn.

"So when am I going to meet Mrs. Wilson Number Four?" House joked.

Wilson groaned, "No House, I'm not seeing anyone right now. Can we please change the subject?"

"Now Wilson, come on, it's been a long time now. This has to be a marathon run of singlehood for you. What's the problem?" House asked, in a mocking tone but with a real curiosity.

"I just haven't found anyone yet. And what's with you? Stacy's been gone almost two years now, shouldn't you be getting back in the game too?" Wilson countered.

House stared at him seriously for a few minutes.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, I just wanted you to stop teasing me." Wilson said empathetically.

"Please, you can't hurt me Wilson. Don't pride yourself." House said, turning back to his food.

Wilson remained silent and then said "Seriously though, there's no reason you have to be alone. There's someone out there for everyone, I believe that."

House didn't look up when he said "Maybe being alone is a practical choice for some people. Not everyone _has _to be with someone. Believe that."

After that, they resumed small talk and relatively pleasant conversation during the remainder of their dinner. As they were driving "home," they passed by a small park with a decently sizeable pond. House knew that what he'd said before was occupying his friend's mind, and he knew that Wilson liked walking.

"Wilson, let's stop here for a minute."

"What, why? I thought you wanted to go home?" Wilson asked surprised by House's random statement.

"Just do it. What's it gonna hurt?" House said.

Wilson parked the car on the unoccupied street side. They got out and Wilson moved to catch up with a limping House who had already made direction toward the pond. They moved slowly, wordlessly together until they reached their destination and stopped.

House looked down at their reflection, which portrayed both of them standing close together, naturally, comfortably. House's bitterness of the world began to melt away briefly, before his thoughts that he'd begun to have in the lobby of the hospital started to creep back to pierce his mind. He looked up at the full moon that was the only source of illumination at their present location, then turned to Wilson.

"House, are you okay? You haven't seemed yourself lately." Wilson commented and queried.

House looked into Wilson's eyes and found that for once, he was speechless. How could he answer such a question? Time is finite. Wilson would not be sitting with House on the latter's couch forever, nor should he be expected to. He couldn't help but suspect that the reason for Wilson's finding a mate had been unduly suspended by his occupation with House. And he appreciated it, though he'd rarely show it. In this moment, he saw himself looking into the eyes of the one who he treasured above anyone else in the world. Wilson was the only person who he _needed, _or even wanted, in his life, and that is when he realized that his feelings for his friend had changed.

"House? What's with you tonight?" Wilson asked seriously.

"Nothing, Wilson. I…thank you. For tonight, I had a great time." House spoke, fragmented.

Wilson was shocked. House never thanked him for anything, so it was puzzling that he would choose to do so for something so insignificant as a dinner that Wilson had prodded him into in the first place. "It's no problem. I enjoyed myself too. What's on your mind though? You can tell me."

"I'm tired. This case has me stretched thin these past few days. Sorry if I haven't been up to par with my bastardly ways for you. I'll make a better effort come Monday." House joked, poking Wilson on the arm.

House turned to head back down the path toward the car before Wilson could interrogate further. Wilson sighed. As always, House would tell Wilson on his terms and in his own time. However, Wilson did not let this strange behavior slide so easily, and resolved to question House about it later. For now, though, he was content to simply drive House "home" and relax within the familiarity that was their mutual companionship.


	2. Which Way Now?

DISCLAIMER: I do not own House MD or any of its writing credits.

Set before House's original team dissolved…

Just Breathe

Which Way Now?

On the mostly silent car ride to House's apartment, House gave a spectacular performance at giving no indication of the inward struggle he was dealing with at present. How could this have happened? Why did he feel this way? His instincts were now telling him to immediately reach for his Vicodin bottle for an immediate relief to the bombardment of new emotions he was experiencing for the person sitting less than two feet from him right then.

"You're really quiet." Wilson said, eyes fixed on the road in front of them.

"So what's your point? You are too." House immediately pointed.

"No point. Just wondering what's going on inside that head of yours, as usual." Wilson said as they pulled to a stop in front of House's apartment complex.

House got out of the car quickly and headed for his door while Wilson comfortably followed. Once inside, House moved to sit on the bench before his instrument so that he might bring order to the swirling masses of confusing thoughts and emotions through musical intervention.

As he began to play, not needing sheet music for his complex song choices, Wilson selected a book from House's dusty collection and seated himself on the couch in order to read. He loved to communicate with words, however, he understood that House was communicating right then, whether he knew it or not.

And so Wilson sat, reading and thinking about what point the conversation earlier had driven House to shut him out. He relaxed and relished in proximity to House's brilliantly effortless mastery of the keys beneath his fingers, not daring or wanting to interrupt. And House knew this. As long as he played, he could be in Wilson's company without having to deal with him at all.

When Wilson's eyes were fixed on the pages in front of him, House would steal short glances at him as he continued to sort out the new range of paths before him. From the moment at the park to the piano, he had come to terms with the fact that he now regarded Wilson as more than a best friend. The problems now were what to do with these feelings. Add to that the emptiness from before he felt when thinking of Wilson's eventual departure and he was at a crossroads. The easy thing to do, House thought, would be to bury these feelings, and never share them with anyone but himself. This would allow him to let things between them to proceed as they naturally would otherwise, and no one would have to be hurt or humiliated. So that's it then, problem solved, right? Why the discomfort?

…A tiny part of him now existed that clung to the lingering hope for Wilson to give positive reception to his feelings, and maybe even reciprocate them. He could find a way to tell Wilson how he really felt about him, and perhaps, just maybe, Wilson wouldn't ever need reason to leave.

House stopped playing. Wilson looked up from his reading and said, "That was really nice."

"Thanks. Glad you like it." House said getting up and heading into the kitchen to fish out two beers from the refrigerator. He limped back to the living room and sat on the opposite side of the sofa from Wilson after having placed the beer in front of him on the coffee table.

"Can you hand me the remote?" House asked Wilson.

Wilson grabbed it from his side of the sofa and passed it to House. House moved his legs up alongside Wilson who was sitting on the inside of the couch. They both stared at the tv as an old black and white feature started to play. About twenty minutes into the movie, House's leg started to irritate him from sitting in such a fixed position for too long a period. Every so often, he would try to shift it but there was not a great deal he could do about it with Wilson sitting next to him. Wilson noticed as House's face grimaced with pain while he was watching the movie as best he could without letting on that he was in so much discomfort.

House reached for his Vicodin when he felt hands on his throbbing leg. He looked over and saw Wilson still watching the movie, but working his hands over House's leg skillfully massaging away the pain. It was all House could do not to lean his head back and moan while he received such tender administrations from his friend. He tried to watch the movie, but his eyes couldn't help but focus on the face of the object of such kindness. He smiled and Wilson, who glanced just in time to see it, and so caught off guard was he that he froze mid movement.

"What's with you lately, House?" Wilson all but begged.

"Nothing! Look, I have to tell you something." House said, turning the tv off.

"Ok. Please, tell me anything." Wilson said, at full attention.

House looked down for a second, and when he looked up he said "I know I don't tell you this very often, and I know I should…"

Wilson didn't blink.

"I want you to know that I appreciate you. Very much." House said. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done…so how on Earth could he convey anything of greater depth than that.

Wilson looked perplexed and then smiled warmly, "Wow, House. I'm not sure what's brought this on, but thank you. I appreciate you, as well."

House nodded, "Okay. Great. Well then, I think I'm going to go to the grocery store really quick and get stuff for breakfast."

"So I'm staying here tonight then?" Wilson asked.

"Well yeah…you have to take me to work Monday. We left my car at the hospital, remember?"

"Oh that's right. So, do you want me to go with you then since you don't have a way to get there?" Wilson offered.

"That's ok, it's just around the corner." House said, his back to Wilson.

Wilson frowned; he didn't much like the thought of House limping back home in the middle of the night with a cane in one hand and groceries in the other.

"No, House I'm coming with you. You shouldn't have to do that by yourself." Wilson said, grabbing his shoes.

House spun around, "I DO NOT need your help, Wilson." House said, gruffly.

Wilson looked down hurt, "I'm sorry. I really didn't mean that you couldn't."

House eyed him, then replied as he opened the door "I'll be back. Won't take long."

Once outside, House heaved a sigh of relief as he leaned back against the door. He really needed to get away from Wilson for a while. Despite having figured out how he now felt for his friend, House was beyond helpless when it came to these matters. He realized that every ounce of his better judgment was telling him to walk the straight and narrow, avoid hazardous grounds, and leave things between Wilson and him as they were. And that is exactly what he now intended to do. Wilson was free to go when he wished.

Wilson returned to the sofa, and returned to the movie that he now had little interest in finishing. House truly was an oddity to say the least. When House wasn't ignoring him or avoiding him, he was _smiling_ or yelling, and it was all exceedingly too close to being a roller coaster for Wilson's taste. He had to get to the root of it, somehow. That's all there was to it. Since House was away for a little while at least, he now had time on his hands to think things over.

He got up and went to the kitchen to dispose of his empty beer bottle. While in the kitchen, he opened House's cabinets to assess what tools were available for tomorrow's breakfast as he was confident that he'd be the one producing something out whatever House brought home. He smiled to himself, thinking of how much House adored the pancakes Wilson made for him. It really gave him so much pleasure to see House enjoy something so much that he, and he alone, could provide for him. With that he sat back down with the book he was reading earlier, still smiling with the feeling he had just entertained in the kitchen. And he stopped. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that it was characteristic of a normal friendship for him to want to be there with House in such moments more so than any other person in his life.

But was this a bad thing? House meant a lot to him, to be sure. They'd been in each other's lives for almost more than half of them now. And Wilson lived for the few times that House would be open with him, like tonight, and acknowledge that they did care for each other in spite of their pranks and their commentary over the other's life.

It was at this moment in Wilson's solitude that House returned. He breezed by Wilson wordlessly and dropped the groceries off in the kitchen and popped another pill. When he returned, he moved back to the piano bench and began to play with gusto. Wilson furrowed his brow, then brushed it aside. He got up and went to get the sheet and pillow that were designated specifically for his overnighters. And with that, the two existed in unbroken silence. Both unaware of the other's sea of thoughts coursing through both of their heads, and neither could fathom the growing feelings budding beneath their hearts.


	3. What Holds You Back

Just Breathe

**What Holds You Back**

The rest of the weekend passed by uneventfully as both House and Wilson conversed at a purely superficial level with regard to work and their everyday lives. Upon their return to the hospital Monday morning, which was late thanks to House's phobia for punctuality, they both parted ways and House breathed a sigh of relief before his office door shut behind him. The last three days spent completely with Wilson had proven to be exhaustingly suffocating.

Before House had time to settle into his office chair, Cuddy barged into the conference room adjacent to the office where Chase, Cameron, and Foreman were seated quietly busying themselves. Cuddy remained poised at the door watching House expectantly, obviously not moving until he joined them in the conference room. "Ugghh. Fine, woman, I'm coming." House yelled in exasperation.

"To what do we owe such an early display of your cleavage, Dr. Cuddy?" House asked, limping toward his dry-erase board.

Without looking the least bit amused, Cuddy said "Let's just cut to the chase and get to the part where you earn your keep. Here's your case. Thanks." And before House had a chance to dismiss it, she had turned and was on her way down the hall toward the elevator. "Fantastic." House sighed.

Chase, Cameron, and Foreman each looked at House as if he had grown another head as he sat down amongst them at their table. Cameron looked at him with concern and asked, "Is there anything bothering you, Dr. House?" House merely shook his head once and it was silent until Foreman grabbed the file of the case Dr. Cuddy had brought them and said, "Well let's get started, we still haven't finished diagnosing our other patient yet. We're getting behind."

As the three doctors rose, House got up and went to his desk and exhaled. His mind was too focused on a single person for too long a time, and with more resolve than he had ever mustered before, began to attack the stack of paper work that he ordinarily delegates out. Just think about this, only this. Not him. This was his mantra for the next four hours which was the amount of time it took for House to complete reports on his past two months' worth of cases as well as overdue performance reviews for his three employees.

With no administrative work left and no test results to process from his subordinates, House resolved to spend the remainder of his last hour of the work day on a secluded bench adjacent to the hospital. The air was crisp and fresh, and the faces of strangers passing by provided a diverting focus from his situation with Dr. Wilson. It had been quite some time since he had avoided Wilson to this extent. He wondered briefly of what Wilson thought about today and its glaring lack of interaction, if anything. He glanced at his watch and noticed that it was already twenty minutes past 5pm. The time had clearly gotten away from him which only emphasized the effects of Wilson's seat on his mind.

As House headed it to his car, he was grateful that he could drive away without having to wait on Wilson. However, he completely stopped when he saw who was standing next to it waiting for him. "Where have you been all day, House? I was worried when you didn't show up to steal anything off my tray at lunch."

House forced a smirk. "Well what can I say? My stomach had some standards above the salad you undoubtedly called food today."

"Haha, you don't know me as well as you'd have everyone think. You want to grab something for dinner tonight?" Wilson offered.

"No. Thanks for the invite, but I think I'll go home. With two patients to harass this week, I'll definitely need to be in bed before 2am." House said, unlocking his car door.

"Oh. Well, ok then, I'll see you tomorrow." Wilson responded, disappointedly before hesitantly adding, "You aren't trying to steer clear of me are you? Did I do something wrong?"

"Quit being such a girl, Wilson. I've just had a long day. 'Worked more than I have in the last three months at least. Have a good, night." House said, shutting the door and starting his car.

Wilson watched House drive until he was out of sight before getting into his own car, heaving a sigh towards House's coldness.

The following day yielded similar distance with House volunteering hours in the clinic which gave Cuddy great pause. After a ten minute questioning, she shook her head in disbelief that House would have no ulterior motive for willingly working with no evidence of personal gain. The only difference in this day was that House was better at leaving promptly by five and successfully avoiding a run-in with Wilson in the parking lot.

By Friday, Wilson was fed up and barged into Cuddy's office demanding to know what was going on with House. "Dr. Wilson, I'm on a conference call with some of our benefactors, can this wait?"

"No, Lisa, it can't. What is wrong with House?" Wilson snapped.

Cuddy apologized and put off the call until later, and then answered "I honestly don't know what he can have done to annoy you. His performance has been impeccable this week. All of his reports and paperwork have been submitted, he's shown up every day on time with the exception of Monday, he's juggled two diagnoses simultaneously and solved both, and he's been contributing to clinic staffing. I hope whatever has gotten into him sticks around."

"He's not talking to me…at all. I can't help but think something's wrong or that I've done something I shouldn't have. You haven't noticed anything weird, other than him picking up his share of the slack around here, I mean?" Wilson asked.

"Now that you mention it, he did ask me to become his official MD and prescriber. With his behavior being as it is, I couldn't say no. Other than that, I don't know of anything. And as for him not seeing you lately, I'm sure that it's just that he's been overwhelmed with all of the business he's taken on. It may take some getting used to for him, socializing and actually working full time." Cuddy stated watching him as he paced.

"What? But I'm his prescribing physician. Why would he switch over to you?" Wilson asked, clearly stunned.

"Maybe it's because I'm his medical proxy. I'm sure it's nothing personal, James. I'm really sorry but, I've got to get to a meeting with the accountant to discuss budget for next year. I'll talk with you later." Cuddy said, as she prepared her desk for her next visitor.

House was sitting in his chair, legs propped up on his desk and arms behind his head. He breathed a simple sigh, weaning himself off of Wilson was surprisingly less painful than he could've hoped for. But then he wasn't allowing himself to feel much of anything at all lately, and obsessing over his practice helped him achieve this. His break was interrupted with Wilson loudly entering his office and standing in front of his desk looking more peeved than he could ever remember.

Since he was only glaring at him, House started by asking "Is there something I can help you with, Wilson?"

"Yes. There is. Can you tell me why you're shutting me out, please?" Wilson said, without dropping his gaze.

"What are you talking about? I am not shutting you out. I'm getting caught up on stuff that needs to get done around this dump and proving that I don't _need_ anybody…least of all you." House said as he continued to sit in his slouched position.

"Proving that to whom, House? Why are you acting like this, did I say something?" Wilson asked, his facial cues switching from anger to reflect sadness.

"No. I just realized that I need to stop being weak. You make me weak, Wilson. Weak and needy and dependent. These are things that disgust me." House said, sitting up in his chair properly to fully meet Wilson in the eyes.

"House. Stop." Wilson said weakly, on the verge of tears.

"Wilson, you might want to leave before you embarrass yourself."

And with that Wilson briskly turned around and exited the office, nearly knocking Dr. Chase over on her way in. "Sorry." Was all he offered her before his hasty retreat to his office."

"What'd you to do him?" Chase asked, knowing he wouldn't get a straight answer.

"If I did do something, do you really think I'd turn around and gossip about it with you literally two minutes later? If you're back from lunch, you can start some clinic hours if you're finished with your assessments on the last two patients." House said looking back to his desk, nonverbally dismissing him.

Chase ran into Dr. Cameron in the elevator, and on their way down to the lobby they discussed House's disconnect from Wilson. "He looked like he was about to cave right there." Chase said.

"I'll go talk to him after I finish my last two rounds." Cameron resolved.

"Ok, but don't get in too deep or you'll get burned too." Chase warned while they separated at the elevator entrance.

After checking in on two patients she had taken under her care as a favor to the head of radiology, Dr. Cameron knocked politely on Dr. Wilson's office door before stepping in and asking, "Dr. Wilson, how are you?"

He looked up at her and she took in how tired and worn he looked. Wilson quietly gestured for her to sit, and she seated herself accordingly. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" She asked gently.

Wilson dropped his head in his hands and heaved a frustrated sigh, "I don't know. I don't know what I did—to deserve this." Wilson said, his speech cracking as he held back tears.

"I'm sure you didn't do anything wrong. He's just…House. He doesn't really need a reason to set up walls. You're the only person he ever lets in, as hard as I try and as little as he gives you. Don't give up. He'll come around." Cameron said, reassuringly.

"Why does it hurt this much?" Wilson asked, truly perplexed.

Cameron regarded him for a second, calculating whether or not he wanted an answer or if he was uttering a rhetorical question. "I think it's because you love him." She stated plainly.

When he saw that she wasn't going to elaborate on this hypothesis, he asked "And what am I supposed to do?" Wilson asked.

"I don't know, and I don't think it's for me to say. But I do know that you will have to be the one to reach out. It's not going to be easy, nothing with House ever is."

Wilson smiled warmly at her. "Thank you, Allison. I feel so much better."

"No problem. Now why don't you go home and relax, it's getting late." She advised.

"Enjoy your weekend." Wilson said as he locked his office door and they parted ways.

He walked past House's office and saw that he had gone home for the day already. As he got into his car, he found that he had lost the will to do anything. And there, in the stillness of the unoccupied parking lot, Dr. Wilson finally broke down.


	4. Where We've Been

Just Breathe

**Where We've Been**

House tossed and turned as he futilely attempted to sleep that night. Try as he might, he could not free his mind from the guilt-ridden images of Wilson's shocked, hurt expressions during their conversation that day. Admitting defeat, House tossed back his covers and sat up and began to analyze what had taken place. He had told Wilson that Wilson made him weak. This was a lie. Wilson did not make House weak, dependent, or needy in the sense that he was implying.

Wilson makes House feel. In truth, he should have been thanking Wilson everyday for standing by him so unfailingly, and always with a genuine smile. He certainly did not deserve the slap of the hand that he was dealt by House earlier that afternoon. Thinking of Wilson would only increase the ache after what he'd done, as Wilson could not help it that House had these feelings and urges… for him. It wasn't fair to lash out and punish Wilson for what were essentially his flaws that were standing in the way of their current friendship.

House stood, needing to act. After dry-swallowing two pills, he put on his coat and shoes and proceeded to his car. He drove quickly and, perhaps even more surprising than his state of undress, without thought of what he intended to say to his only friend whom he tried to injure.

After staring at Wilson's door for no less than eight minutes and forty-seven seconds, House knocked on the door in the most unobtrusive, non-offensive, and un-House-like manner he could possibly muster. After waiting nervously with the breath caught in his throat and stomach twisted into a knot for what seemed an eternity, House sighed, frustrated with the whole situation, and turned to move in defeat back toward his car.

Before he could reach the elevator, the door opened and Wilson looked in the direction of the elevator and was surprised to see House limping in the other direction. Timidly, he called out "What do you want, House?"

House froze mid-step. Slowly, he turned and regarded Wilson, who was also clad in lounge pants and a white t-shirt. Wilson waited by the doorway as House moved anxiously back to where Wilson stood.

"… Well?" Wilson asked. "What brings you here after your declaration of the negative effect I have on you?"

"I'm sorry." House said quickly, quietly. House's gaze drifted from Wilson's puzzled expression to the floor, as he started to shift from cane to left foot. Wilson nodded warily.

House added, "I was wrong, Wilson."

"Ok." Wilson said.

They stood in awkward silence for another minute before Wilson said, "Well, if that's all you have to say, then I forgive you. If there's nothing else, I'll see you Monday, House."

Just before the door closed again, House pushed against it hard. Wilson stood there without protest, waiting for an explanation.

"Listen. There's a little café on the corner of a street I took a detour down on my way getting here. It's open late if you'd like to get some coffee and maybe a snack with me. My treat." House offered, praying he would get something, anything other than a door in his face.

Wilson did not shut the door. He stared at his friend, bewildered by his behavior today and tonight. It seemed so conflicted and uncertain that he was compelled to go, regardless of how tired he was, or how he was dressed, or what time it was. "Sure. Why not? Just let me get my jacket and keys."

"That's ok. I'll drive." House said, before he could even think of what that would entail.

Wilson hesitated, and then went to get his jacket and he quickly threw on some shoes as House waited.

They drove in utter silence, and walked into the quaintly decorated café which was a mere block away from House's apartment. They were the only two customers, and, after ordering two coffees and two croissants, they opted to sit next to the window overlooking the lit street. "Wilson..I..I don't—" House began before Wilson cut him off. "We don't have to talk about anything you don't want to talk about, House. I don't want to pressure you."

"I want you to know that there is nothing wrong with you, there is nothing that you do that I don't..appreciate. What happened today was entirely my problem." House said, trying to get Wilson to understand.

Wilson tried to comfort House by saying "I just want you to be relaxed, and I'd love it if you'd just tell me whatever your feeling. It's just me."

House exhaled and let relief wash over him. This state was enough to prompt him to say "I want you to be happy."

Wilson's eyes grew wide and he gaped and later said"…What, House. If you wanted me to be happy, then why would you tell me that I make you unhappy? Especially if you've just said that's not true."

"I said those things because I wanted to make it easier on both of us for you to move on with your life." House said, clutching his coffee mug.

Wilson looked at House as if he had just sprouted a second head, and asked "What in the world are you talking about? Move on with my life? I don't understand, House."

"I mean that you are almost 40 years old, and you should be enjoying yourself. You should be looking for someone to build a family with. Instead, you're wasting your time with me, and I can't encroach on you anymore." House almost shouted.

Realizing they now had the attention of the two employees working in the café as well as the group of four who had recently walked in.

"It's getting late, House. Take me back home, I want you to get some sleep. I know you've had an unbearable week. You need rest." And with that Wilson got up as he put on his jacket, and headed towards the car.

When they were both seated, Wilson turned to House and said "This is my life, House. I wouldn't have been with you all this time, and I wouldn't be with you now if I wasn't happy. You make me happy." Wilson said, almost in tears. "It hurts my feelings when you think so little of yourself."

House looked up to meet Wilson's gaze, "I just want so much for you. I don't want you to ever look back and think if you had it to do over, you'd choose to spend your life differently."

"I'm right where I'm supposed to be, House. I'm your friend." Wilson said.

House nodded once and they were silent for a while, each lost in thought. House suddenly started the car. "Do you want to go home? I mean, back to my place since we're so close and it's the weekend?"

"I don't have a change of clothes, or my bedding, but if you wouldn't mind, that's fine with me." Wilson said.

"That's ok, I'll take care of you. I just want you close by tonight." House said, glad he had driving as an excuse not to face Wilson after so intimate a confession.

Wilson smiled and settled into his seat. This had been an exceptionally exhausting day, but he had a good feeling about its end. Again, the rest of their car ride home, was filled with silence. Only this time, the silence was not plagued with nervous, tensed energy from both of them.

After arriving home, Wilson went to the restroom to get ready for much needed sleep. In the mean time, House grabbed two pillows and a single quilt. After positioning the pillows on either side of the couch, he sat down and held the quilt in his hands. When Wilson returned, he seated himself on the other side, and House spread the quilt so that it covered both of them, capturing their shared warmth. Wilson reached out and turned out the lamp light, and House turned on the tv and began flipping channels to fill the silence. After House was ten channels into the second rotation of the selection, Wilson took the remote from House's hand and turned the tv off, placing the apartment into darkness. House remained silent as Wilson sat next to him. House felt an arm around him and Wilson's head on his right shoulder. The room remained silent with the exception of their breathing which became almost intertwined, and House reached out, tentatively, to gently stroke Wilson's cheek as his head leaned into Wilson's.

They may have stayed in that position for hours. By the time they fell asleep, they were in each others arms, and all of the turmoil, anguish and heartache they had endured together up to this point melted away as the distance between them continues to close.


	5. Who Lights the Path

Just Breathe

**Who Lights the Path**

Light had just begun to pour into the living room when House stirred awake. He lay there in the stillness of the serene, calm warmth he and Wilson shared. House was positioned flat on his back across the couch with Wilson lying more or less on top of him, strategically between his legs so as not to agitate his wounded leg muscle. House's arms tightened their hold on Wilson's back and he allowed himself the luxury of watching Wilson as he slept.

How this beautiful person came to be in his arms last night, or this morning, was beyond his powers of reasoning. Nothing in the world could prompt him to wake Wilson or allow him out of his arms at this moment. He drank in the sight of him, the soft sounds he made while sleeping, and the sweet scent of his hair flooding his olfactory system. Slowly, he buried his nose in Wilson's hair as he closed his eyes and was on the verge of sleep when-

_BEEEEEEEP!_ The world came crashing down around them as Wilson's beeper was reacting from inside his jacket. Wilson moved off of House quickly and shut it off, "I'm sorry, I've got to go in right now. One of my patients that I cleared for recovery is having recurrence. Damn it!"

"Why did you even bring that damn thing?" House asked in irritation, knowing that there wasn't anything Wilson could do to help it.

"I know, I know. We'll catch up and talk some more later. Ok?" Wilson said, making his way to the restroom for a quick shower and a teeth brush. "Oh and could you call a cab for me? I won't take long."

By the time Wilson exited the bathroom fresh, House had cleaned up the sofa and was seated, dressed and waiting in the living room with coffee. "Here. You look nice."

"Thanks. What's the wait time?" Wilson asked as he was putting his jacket on, having already retrieved some of House's dress clothes that hadn't seen light in no one knows how long.

"Should be here in a few minutes." House said, suddenly not as comfortable with what transpired between them with the increasing sunlight.

"I don't know when I'll be able to get off again. I hate this. I'll make you pancakes some morning soon, I promise." Wilson said truly wishing that his patient's condition wasn't worsening and that he hadn't been torn away from the best night's sleep he'd had in years, even if it was on a couch.

House smiled at him and wished him goodbye as he watched him get in the car.

House went back to his living room and sat on the couch, thoughts of Wilson refusing to leave his mind.

Wilson tipped the driver and walked briskly into the hospital toward the Oncology department. On his way into the elevator, he ran into Dr. Chase. "Oh, so it's your turn to work the weekend, Chase?" She heaved a sigh and answered "Oh yes, it's stellar. But I get to look forward to three more weekends off after I put in my dues on this one."

After studying him for a minute, he asked "Have you spoken to House at all since your last visit to his office?" Wilson answered, hand behind his neck and a slight blush forming "Yes, we talked. It went really well."

"Good, glad to hear it. It is always uncomfortable whenever you two are at odds. It's like the whole world is out of balance. Well, this is my floor. I hope you don't have to stay too long. You were supposed to be off this weekend right?"

"Yea, I was. I'll see you later, Chase." Wilson said, before the doors closed again.

Upon reviewing the updated chart for his patient, he quickly saw the reason for his being paged. Mr. Kensington had suffered from a severe immune system failure as a result of the cancer treatment which he himself prescribed. To make matters worse, the original cancer had not been completely eradicated. He braced himself for the day ahead of him, and quickly prepped himself for the conversation he was about to have with his dying patient.

At 4:32 that afternoon, Wilson found himself outside the patient's room attempting to console the few family members that were present for Mr. Kensington's death. "I know it isn't fair. I'm very sorry for your loss. If it helps, he went quickly in the end." The sobs from the man's daughter were too much for Wilson to stand. He apologized again, and made a hasty exit towards the sanctity of his office. "Tell whoever tries to come in here that I am not to be disturbed," were his only words to his assistant as he made his way inside.

Wilson sat at his desk, back aching, stomach empty. His paperwork for his most recently deceased patient completed, and he was now reading over his next two patients which had just been admitted during the time he was dealing with Mr. Kensington. Next week is going to be a full one, he realized, as he was trying to finagle the scheduling. His phone rang, and he realized it was now 6:21pm. "Dr. Wilson, speaking." The nurse that had taken over for his assistant informed him that he had a visitor. "Tonya, I'm really tied up right now, I don't have time for anything short of a consult." "It's Dr. House." "Oh. Well. Send him, please. Thanks."

Wilson sighed and put his pen down. He really hadn't realized how quickly the time had escaped him, and he was now too delirious to contend with a heavy House talk at this point. However, House did not come exploding into the door with a patient update, a profound social theory, or a scheme with which he sought Wilson's participation. Rather, House entered the office calmly, and wordlessly moved to sit across Wilson at his desk.

"Hey." House said, simply.

"Hey." Wilson replied, tiredly.

"So, I'd ask how your day was but based on the fact that you aren't supposed to be here and you look like hell, I think I can skip that formality." House correctly assessed.

Wilson closed his eyes and extended his right hand to his left shoulder in an attempt to assuage the pain. "Yea, today was horrible. It began with promise though." Wilson said, remembering how comfortable he was in House's arms that morning.

"Yea, that was nice. Have you eaten anything at all?"

Wilson continued to stab at the pain in his back and then answered, "No. I'm starving. Let's go home. I need to get out of here before my Sunday gets sucked in too."

"No kidding. Sit back down though." House said, himself rising from his seat.

"What?" Wilson asked, curiously.

"Sit down," House commanded, now behind Wilson.

He began massaging Wilson's neck, kneading the stressed muscles, making a skilled path down to his shoulders. Wilson let out a satisfied moan as House's hands released the tension the day had brought upon his body. House's hands moved lower, traveling down Wilson's spine, finally reaching the core muscle at the base. House stopped, and rested his hands on Wilson's biceps, letting his work soak in and take its relaxing effect. Wilson slowly stood up saying, "That was amazing, House. Thank you."

"No problem." House said gruffly. "Come on. I know you're hungry and I am too."

As they almost got to the exit, Dr. Cuddy came out of her office, spotted them, and called out "Dr. Wilson, I know you're leaving but could you just spare 15 minutes to do a clinic observation? We're experiencing really heavy traffic tonight."

Wilson heaved a sigh, and looked apologetically to House and started to say "Alr—" "Sorry Dr. Cuddy, he's on House clock now." He glanced around the lobby and shouted, "Dr. Jacobs, could would you mind covering a fifteen minute shift in the clinic for Dr. Wilson?"

Nancy Jacobs walked toward the clinic smiling and said, "Sure, I was just on my way up to check on patients I've monitored four times with no change in any of them. I could use the break."

"There. It's settled. Bye, Cuddy." House said, warning heavy in his voice.

In the car, Wilson gratefully thanked House and leaned back into the passenger seat and let House drive them home. House looked at Wilson and frowned, thinking the day should have been totally different than it was.

However, he wasn't worried for the long-term, so much anymore. As he drove, he started to focus on the present instead of Wilson's eventual departure from his life, and made a new commitment that he would simply cherish whatever time he was granted with him as a gift. If Wilson did leave someday, it would not be as a result of his treatment of him.

When House parked the car outside his apartment building, he gently roused Wilson who was softly snoring next to him. "Come on, you can lie down on the couch when we get in. I'll handle dinner while you take a nap." House got the same two pillows from the night before and put one at either end, just as before, only this time he placed one under Wilson's feet as well as his head, and Wilson was out by the time House limped into the kitchen.

House began work making two hearty chicken salads, for which he had gotten the ingredients earlier while restocking for the weekend. At no point did Wilson wake until House woke him so that he didn't go a full day without eating anything. "You don't have to come to the kitchen, we can eat here, like we always do." House sat the bowls down, and soon procured two glasses of red wine to complement them. Wilson audibly exhibited his appreciation for House's culinary product without words.

"So, how do you like it?" House asked, slight sarcasm detectable in his voice.

"Oh my God, this is amazing." Wilson said barely able to stop long enough to get that much of a statement out. House only laughed.

After they both had finished, Wilson with definite energy regained. Picked up the dishes and began washing them. House came in soon after and began drying the dishes that Wilson washed and handed to him. It didn't take long to complete the task and they both returned to the couch.

"So you cook and you can clean?" Wilson began, with a smirk.

"Oh yea, you don't truly think that I starve in between visits from you do you?" House retorted.

"I thought that was just your way of keeping the poundage off," Wilson joked. Wilson just smiled, content and relaxed.

House looked as if he was going to say something, but caught himself. Frustrated with himself, he rose, grabbed his cane, and moved toward the piano. Wilson watched him confused, but decided firmly that he would do no pushing or probing. Just let him be. The melody that House began to play filled the room with such a tranquility that Wilson's concern was immediately put at ease, and House's frustration dissolved as well. During the course of the song, House was able to find the words to appropriately define what he needed to emote, which has not been his forte.

The bout of energy that had been restored in Wilson was beginning to dim as he again found a place of relaxation in proximity to House. By the end of House's second played song, Wilson was sleeping faintly. House ended his third song suddenly, and Wilson rose his head, "Why'd you stop?"

"We need to go to sleep. You're tired." House said, quietly.

"I'm ok, now. I feel like we didn't really talk at all." Wilson said, frowning.

"We have plenty of time for that later. Right now, let's get some rest." House said, effectively closing the discussion.

"Alright, if you insist," Wilson resigned, moving to make room for House on the sofa.

House paused. Wilson looked up when he saw House was making no move to sit next to him.

"What's wrong?" Wilson asked.

"…Since we're obviously wanting to sleep..together..again, why don't we go to the bed? It's a lot more comfortable than a couch." House said, unable to look Wilson in the eyes as he suggested it.

Wilson looked at House and smiled shyly, "Alright. Let's go then."

The lights were out across the entire apartment save the one lamp next to House's bed. They took more time undressing than they had ever before. Wilson turned and glanced at House, who wore only a pair of boxers and a white t-shirt while House saw that Wilson was wearing nothing but a white tank top and white boxer briefs. They climbed into bed and House flipped off the light after they'd both said goodnight to one another.

Now pitched into darkness, all was silent with only the sounds of breathing once again. House turned to his side facing Wilson and, boldly reached out and gently pulled Wilson to him so that their bodies were flush. Wilson wrapped his arm around House's back and nestled his head into the nape of House's shoulder.

Neither felt the need to speak, though they were both acutely aware of each other's coherence during the negotiation of these intimate physical arrangements. And, here, they were perfectly happy to remain for the duration of space and time.


	6. Why We Stay

Just Breathe

**Why We Stay**

House woke to find his friend's place in the bed empty, and he immediately grew anxious. Thoughts of Wilson reacting negatively to the level of intimacy that had so suddenly been introduced to their relationship began swimming rampantly throughout his mind.

Sounds and smells from the kitchen reached him and he calmed somewhat. At least Wilson hadn't left…yet. House cautiously entered the kitchen to find Wilson finishing another round of the pancakes that he knew House held in great esteem.

"Hey." House said, softly.

"Hey." Wilson replied smiling, shyly.

Neither felt compelled to speak, especially if it meant broaching their recently developments in their sleeping arrangement. After it became apparent that they weren't going to fall easily into conversation while standing and staring at one another, Wilson broke the tension by suggesting they eat. They sat awkwardly, and ate in relative silence at the kitchen island.

Things had certainly changed between them now. What implications did this have for their friendship, and was Wilson really comfortable with what was going on. This was happening way too fast. House became so absorbed with his own thoughts that he'd almost forgotten Wilson was sitting next to him.

"You got really lost for a while there, House. What's on that mind of yours, this morning?" Wilson asked in an attempt to ease House out of his stoic mind-block.

How could he possibly say this to him?

"Nothing. What do you have planned for today?" House asked, diverting attention as far from his thoughts as possible.

Wilson thought about it briefly as he picked up his plate and moved to wash it at the sink. "I wasn't really thinking that far ahead. Yesterday was so…draining. I couldn't really see past coming home. Why? Did you have something in mind?" Wilson asked.

"No. I was making conversation." House replied, almost inaudibly, as he picked at the remains of his treasured pancakes.

"Yea, you never really make conversation. But you always finish whatever meal is in front of you." Wilson pointed out, as he moved to pick up House's plate. "What's got you in such a funk? Today is hospital free, so you need to relax so I can relax."

"You're not relaxed unless I'm relaxed?" House threw back at him, playfully.

Wilson shook his head in mock annoyance, and made his way to the couch in the living room. House plopped down beside him shortly after. "Wilson—" House tried to start.

Wilson looked at him, waiting patiently for House to finish. "House, is something wrong?"

House shook his head, frustrated, "No. No. Wilson, I need to get this off my chest."

He turned to face House and tried to comfort him by saying, "It's ok. Take your time. It's just me."

House laughed mirthlessly, "Just you. There is no 'just you,' Wilson."

"What do you mean?" Wilson asked, confused.

House heaved a sigh, it's now or never. "Wilson, these past few days…they've been wonderful."

Wilson stared at him, focused and unblinking, willing him to continue.

"When I'm close to you, I feel…I feel." House said, looking to the side.

When he realized Wilson was waiting for more of an explanation, he was forced to continue. He looked up into Wilson's eyes, and held his gaze.

"You're the best person that I've ever known. And I know I've never shown you how much you mean to me. I don't even deserve you as a friend. Let alone anything more."

"House—" Wilson finally interrupted.

"No. Let me finish." House said, taking Wilson's hands into his own.

"When I wake up in the morning, I want to feel you there next to me. I want you in my life, for the rest of my life." House said.

Silence filled the room as they stared at one another. Neither said anything more, or moved from their positions, until the first tear fell from Wilson's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Wilson. I didn't mean to dump this on you. Please don't hate me. I can't lose you." House said, on the verge of shedding his own tears.

"House, stop. You have nothing to apologize for. And I'm not going anywhere. This is where I belong. I want to be with you for the rest of my life." Wilson said, nearly choking.

House's eyes grew wide, but before he could speak Wilson continued, "I love you, House."

Hearing the words caused House's heart to skip a beat and say "I love you, Wilson."

They smiled at each other, and House's thumbs slowly stroked Wilson's hands as he spoke, "God. I've wanted this for so long. I don't know what to do now that I have you."

"You've always had me. But I'll show you what to do now." Wilson answered, bringing his hands to House's face.

House couldn't believe that this was happening, he felt his throat lose function as if there was a foreign object lodged deep inside. When their lips met, their eyes were closed, and the kiss was so gentle that it felt as though it might shatter into a thousand pieces if any sudden sound or movement occurred from the world around them.

Only when Wilson eventually pulled away, and their eyes open did House ever release the breath that was held in anticipation. "Just breathe." Wilson said, softly, looking into House's eyes with all the feeling that he'd held for his long-time friend for the past several years.

House laughed, and reached out to pull Wilson down to him as he lay back on the couch. Wilson rested peacefully on House's chest, listening to House's breathing as House placed tender kisses on Wilson's hair while tightening his grip around Wilson's back.

"I love you so much, Greg," Wilson whispered.

"I love you too, James," House whispered back.

They stayed in this position for the better part of this Sunday afternoon, relishing in the love they had denied themselves for years. However, they both knew that they would have the rest of their lives together, without a second squandered. And when they went to sleep, every night they would lay together and heal the short-term wounds that fell against them in their medical careers, and even in their separate everyday lives. Everyone has a moment in time in which they feel a breath of heaven and know the cold pain and sufferings of the world melt away in the face of the happiness they have found here. House and Wilson, together, found their place of heaven on earth that had been in front of them within easy reach for a long time and, now, they are here to stay.


End file.
